


Lonely

by dreamiflame



Category: The Sandman
Genre: F/M, Incest, New Year's Resolutions 2004
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-06
Updated: 2004-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-21 22:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/pseuds/dreamiflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dream visits Death when loneliness strikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bantha fodder (banthafodder)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banthafodder/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Neil Gaiman is a very very talented man, and I'm a very bad thief. I'll put them back when I'm done.
> 
> Thanks to John and Sara, my betas. Any further mistakes are all mine.

The moon is a crescent in the sky, bright and large. Stars shine beside it, shimmering down on where Death lies, comfortable and happy on the grass. She pillows her head on her arms and sighs contentedly. It feels nice to recline below the sky with nothing on her mind and nowhere to be.

Dream's voice, careful and steady, comes to her on the night breeze. "Will you speak with me, sister?" he asks, and Death shifts, stretching her arms to the heavens. She thinks a moment, all the time conscious of how Dream must be standing in his gallery, her sigil caught precisely in his long fingers. He would not fidget, because Dream doesn't do such things, but he would be waiting, his impatience growing.

"Come through, Dream," she invites finally, and he does, standing tall and straight above her. He's blocking out the moon and frowning, and Death laughs, tugging on the hem of his robe. "Sit down, silly. Relax. Take a load off."

Stiffly, he settles to the ground, robe billowing up around his legs. Death turns her head to see him as he smooths it down, then stares back up at the moon. "It's a nice night," she says, not expecting him to answer. As she thought, he remains silent, his gaze steady on her face. Death pats his leg, glancing at him again. "Did you have something you wanted to talk about?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Death can see him gather himself. Inwardly she smiles: he takes being laughed at very seriously, so she tries not to show how his insistence upon formality amuses her. He reaches for her hand, still on his knee, and lifts it in his own, as though examining the fall of her wrist.

"I wanted to see you, sister." He pauses, still frowning, and she twists her head, looking at him. Even Dream gets lonely sometimes, and she's the only person, or anthropomorphic personification, rather, that he feels comfortable approaching. Dream takes an unnecessary breath and stares at her hand. "I suppose I am- lonely." There are lines between his brows and she smooths them with a fingertip.

The grass is soft below her back as she settles back. "Well, you've managed to see me. Good job." She smiles up at him, unsurprised when he frowns in return. Dream has trouble with joking, especially about something like this. He hates to admit to needing people, Death knows. She moves her wrist in his hand and he looks down at it again, tracing the pattern of the bones onto the skin. Death is a trifle surprised: he must have been feeling truly isolated to need such contact.

His fingers are warm against hers and Death sits up slowly, settling against him. He's too tall to use as a proper headrest, but Death is used to that, leaning her head against his arm. "I'm glad you came to see me, then," she offers, and Death tilts his head, looking at her with his eyes like the echo of the sky above them.

He touches her cheek gently and shakes his head, his hand light against her. "I am, too," he says, and Death nods, pulling on his arm. He stills, then shifts position so he can wrap his arm around her, and Death leans up to kiss his cheek, careful and soft. She can feel his breath ghosting across her ear, and Dream sighs, letting go of her hand to cradle her head, holding her in place. His fingers meet at the base of her skull, thin and strong, and he looks uncertain for a moment. Only a moment, then his confusion clears, and Dream lifts his chin in invitation.

Death kisses him, chaste but firm, and Dream relaxes utterly, mouth going slack against hers. Death has to smile at his sudden capitulation, and turns her head slightly, melding their mouths more firmly. The kiss is comfortable, friendly, and Death smiles against Dream's mouth as he unwinds beneath her hands. Death pushes the robe off his shoulder, where it spreads onto the grass, and presses him down onto it. He goes willingly, pliant, relaxed, and Death laughs, pleased when he smiles in return. He pulls her down to him, warm and willing, and Death remembers one of his old lovers who had said his skin felt like white silk. It does, but then, she's sure hers feels the same way.

He is passionate and gentle, and his touch is careful on her skin. Death grins at him, lightly scratching his collarbone. "I won't break," she reminds him, and Dream's caress is more sure as he maps her body with his fingertips. Laughing, Death returns the favor, oddly pleased to discover what makes him shudder and moan. He is beautiful by moonlight, she thinks, and kisses him as they move together.

Wrapped in his robe together, they look up at the moon again. Time has passed: the crescent moon hangs full and heavy at the edge of the sky, and the stars are disappearing into the colors of dawn in the east. Death knows if there were birds here, in her realm of the Sunless Lands, they would be singing. Dream moves beside her, a long, careful stretch, and Death regards him fondly.

"Feel any better?" she asks, and he nods, tucking a lock of hair out of his face. He cups her cheek and kisses her again, then stands, offering her a hand. For a moment they stand together beneath the fading night, white flesh and black hair and bare skin, then cloth settles over Dream's shoulders, and Death moves her ankh from her ear back to her neck.

Dream pulls her into his arms, giving her a careful hug, the rare sign of affection entirely welcome to Death. "I thank you, sister," he says, slipping back into the comfort of his careful manners. Death smiles sunnily, pecking him lightly on the cheek. It wasn't sex for sex's sake, she knows. Dream simply needed to connect.

"Don't be a stranger, Dream," she admonishes him, and he smiles briefly, kissing her hand before returning to his own Realm. Death watches the moon set, and settles her umbrella against her shoulder, moving out into the world. Duty beckons, and she has a job to do. She will see Dream later, when time allows. They're family, after all.


End file.
